


Travelin' Soldier

by Reda



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Military, Drama, Eventual Smut, Family, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Tragedy, inspired by a song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7226770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reda/pseuds/Reda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love with a military man has its pitfalls, especially when said man is a soldier from another nation. Long distance relationships are tough without the added tension of a looming war. Growing up is hard. Life is a challenge. But, well, love is gentle. Love is patient. Love is...tragic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two days past eighteen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TiedyedTrickster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiedyedTrickster/gifts).



> For @greentrickster – for dragging me into this rare pair hell. The cookies are too nice. And at least I can always drag myself back to GoChi. 
> 
> Title (and chapter names) pulled from a song. A song that inspired something that was festering in my mind all this time. If you know what the song is, or figure it out, then, hah, enjoy wondering how this is gonna end. I can't believe this is an actual thing now. Also, ages are twisted - explanation below. (Oh, character tags will grow as characters appear in the story; I'm always hesitant to add them if they're planned but not there yet)
> 
> Thanks to @silverandsapphire for beta-reading for me. Oh, I hope I used all that military lexicon correctly; come yell at me if I embarrassed myself xD

_[West City Limits]_

Raditz set a hand on the green sign, leaning over a little to stretch his back. As he dropped his dark green duffel bag in the dirt, he straightened up to give his neck a nice pop for good measure, a hand slicking through the sweat on his forehead and pushing it back into his hair. Walking for so long could be _so_ tiring. Even if he had grown used to marching in his full battle rattle for long distances, the trek from his base camp to his brother's house was still nothing to sneeze at. Especially alone. Especially in the middle of summer.

Which is why he _wasn't_ wearing full battle rattle; heck he hardly had on every piece of his fatigues. Screw. That. Oh sure, he'd started out that way, including the uniform cap he was required to wear, too. But eventually he packed it up, piece by piece. Of course the cap that looked so ridiculous on top of his hair had been the first thing to go, as soon as he was well away from _any_ military base (and the main paved roads and highways at that). After that, he'd pretty much stripped down to his white undershirt, camo pants, and muddy black boots, keeping his pants bloused where the boots reached up to mid-calf. Every effort to be comfortable, as well as every effort to stay unnoticed in case some wandering eye were to report him for breaking protocol.

With a yawn and another popping stretch, he shrugged his shoulders and plopped down in the dirt around the city limit sign. Back dirt roads hardly traveled at all made for the perfect route for him, but the dust sure did spread when you moved around in it.Still. His aching feet were practically begging him to take a break with all that incessant throbbing they were doing. Getting himself comfortable against the sign, he grabbed his half-full canteen and dumped some water over his face, relishing in the cool (well cooler than anything else) liquid splashing him in this god-awful heat.

Oh, normally he might care about his waste of water, but he was right around the corner from his brother's house anyway. A walk around the edge of the city to the woods and then, well, compared to his journey so far he was pretty much at his destination already. Sure, he was taking a break _now,_ but once he decided to get off his ass he'd be at his brother's place in no time.

Might as well enjoy a few minutes of rest right here at the city limits. Besides, his brother would probably be busy with his after-school martial arts training anyway. Gods knew the little brat loved his fighting. Stuck taking summer classes probably, but still insisting on a little time in the gym afterward. He just wouldn't be Goku if he did otherwise.

Ignoring the mixture of sweat and water tickling his neck and chest, Raditz closed his eyes and hummed. The sun was at his back. That much was enough to tempt him to enjoy a little nap out here. He'd been walking into the sun for hours. Traveling west always led to a little less-enjoyable afternoon. Gods. And the heat didn't help at all.

Just when he was getting to the _enjoyment_ part of his nap, Raditz heard a loud vehicle rush by his position...and then slowly come back. _Great_. And then a voice calling to him. _Double great._

“Hey!” The voice said, a boy no doubt just recently fresh from puberty. “You okay?”

Raditz opened his eyes, glaring over at the youth for interrupting his almost-nap. Before he could snap at the curious brat, he found his breath stolen by the sight in front of him. Well, technically to the side of him except for Raditz was looking...whatever. A youth recently fresh from puberty indeed. Puberty that had been kind. _Hella_ kind.

A nice, strong jaw at such a young age with a pair of dark eyes that glowed like smoldering charcoal once the goggles were lifted to his forehead. And yet those cheeks looked soft, like a baby face waiting to be pinched. That face alone made him wonder about the boy's actual age and why there was something so vaguely familiar about him.

Beyond that, the youth's hair was an untamed mess, fanning out around his shoulders, though most of it seemed to be pulled back. Probably for easier riding. Damn kid had some fancy motorcycle – probably a gift from a rich Mommy and Daddy who had too much money on their hands. Kid could've done better with what he was wearing, too. Jeans and a dark green tank (with red trim and oh, complete with a symbol of some sort in the center) – not exactly ideal wear for riding such a bike. Kid was probably a brash risk taker.

Even more reason to like him. Shit.

“Hey, buddy,” the kid said as he climbed off his bike. “It's not really a good idea to sit out in the sun like that. You're gonna roast yourself alive.”

“Buzz off, kid,” Raditz said, waving his hand. “I ain't your buddy.”

“Clearly,” the kid snapped. “I can tell by your uniform you aren't from around here.”

Eyeing him, Raditz gave a small sarcastic smirk. “Oh, damn, thought for sure I could sneak into enemy territory dressed like this.”

The dark haired youth blinked, standing a couple steps away from his bike and looking for all the world like someone had confessed to murder in his hearing. Well in a way...Nah. Being a soldier of an aggressive land-seeking nation didn't mean he'd killed the people of this one, yet. Except he had, but, well, that wasn't the point. He hadn't straight up confessed his sins – and never would do that for a stranger anyway.

All that aside -

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of _more_ motorcycle engines. Oh, how _lovely_. More guests. And by the look of things, not friends of the hot young rich kid. Too bad. So much for a nap. The afternoon had just gotten hella interesting.

Three motorcycles came into view, circling the dark haired youth. Raditz put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the sign as the brash little risk-taker was surrounded by the small gang. The kid seemed nervous, eyeing his out-of-reach bike like he was wishing he hadn't stepped away from the thing. Well, every action had a consequence as far as Raditz was concerned. It would be interesting to see how this played out.

“Yamcha,” said the supposed leader, who was even more of an idiot youth for not wearing a shirt in this weather and riding a motorcycle like that to boot. “Should've known you were the bike thief.”

Raditz raised an eyebrow. _Bike thief, huh?_

Suddenly, he was looking at the dark-haired youth – at _Yamcha_ – in a completely different light. Not some lucky rich kid then. If it was true, he was even more of a risk-taker than previously believed. Now Raditz was even _more_ interested.

“Ah hah,” Yamcha said, holding his hands up. “You want the bike back, Tien? It's right there. No harm, no foul. I'll just – uh – walk home.”

“I don't think so,” Tien said, climbing off his bike, a shine of sunlight reflecting from his bald head; the blond chick who had been behind him moved forward a little gripping the bike's handlebars. “That's the third one since the start of the summer. You owe me two.”

Almost instantly, Yamcha's eyes narrowed and his body twitched as Tien walked toward him. “I didn't steal anything else. Just the one.”

Tien scoffed. “Like I'll believe that.”

Raditz watched the bald kid step forward – and wait, was that a tattoo of an _eye_ on the kid's forehead? What in the hell? Shaking his head, Raditz turned his gaze to Yamcha as the shirtless, _'three eyed'_ brat forced the actually nice looking youth to take a defensive stance. Heh. What was with these kids? Both of them looked like they'd fit right into his brother's martial arts obsession. Raditz rolled his eyes. Maybe it was something in the water here. Dumb kids.

By the looks of it, Yamcha wasn't too confident in his abilities, either. But Raditz couldn't really blame him. Being surrounded by, what was it, one, two, three, four, _five_ guys? Even if one was a midget, that wasn't very good odds. Typical gang behavior, though. He had to wonder why Yamcha was out here at the city limits anyway.

Nice to have the kid's name, at least.

To their credit, Raditz couldn't really tell who threw the first punch. For kids, they were fast, and once they got started dust was flying everywhere as they danced around each other. At least it was just Tien and Yamcha fighting. The others were there but hanging back. Raditz rolled his eyes again and let out a grunt. Dumb martial arts honorable nonsense. Like this fight was actually full of any honor.

Oh, and _there_ went the other fighters into the fray. Well, that honor certainly didn't last long.

While the martial arts showdown – or scuffle, or beat down, really – began, Raditz tried not to watch too closely. He was the bored yet curious bystander here. Not that he was worried about gathering attention. Let those kids beat up on their good looking peer. He didn't care. Heck, he was only vaguely intrigued by Yamcha's moves against the overwhelming odds. He wasn't doing too bad for himself. Until – ouch – until that Tien fella stepped his game up. Then it -

Eyes narrowed as metal flashed across Raditz's field of vision. Metal that he recognized. With a turn of his head, he glared, catching sight of a gun of all things. That fine looking blond chick was aiming a pistol at the gang beating.

Raditz's hands reacted by instinct. Less than a minute to get his rifle out of his bag and put together. Damn. Less than that by a long shot, too. Thirty seconds? Twenty? Fifteen? He should've timed himself. Basic training had never seen such fast hands.

When he stood up and barked a command to “put the fucking gun down,” the noise of the fighting scuffle immediately died as everyone around instantly froze. Even if he was only half-dressed in his fatigues, the image should have been enough. With the butt of his rifle at his shoulder, the end of the barrel pointed mostly at the ground for now, he narrowed his eyes and tried to make it obvious that he wouldn't hesitate to shoot if they refused to listen to him.

“Holy shit,” he heard Tien mutter. “Chill out. This doesn't concern you.”

“Hell yeah it concerns me,” Raditz snapped back, stepping forward, and very slightly waving the barrel toward the blond haired chick. “Your bitch brought a gun to a knife fight. Hell, it's not even a knife fight. Even so – that's crossing a line.”

Tien's eyes flashed, but he turned his glare to his woman. “Launch, how many times have I told you to keep that thing away from the public?”

Launch scowled. “We weren't dealing with _public_ until he stepped in.”

Nevertheless, she put her pistol down and raised her hands, much to Raditz's amusement. Man, it was kind of a good feeling having all these kids fucking terrified of him. Just to heighten the tension, he stretched his mouth into a grin and kept his eyes wide open, hoping to give the image of 'crazy military guy with a rifle.' Well. It wasn't too far from the truth.

“All right, so,” Raditz said, smirking at the way they cowered at each movement he made. “You should probably leave now. Sorry 'bout the bike thing. But you'll survive, I'm sure.”

To his great pleasure, the gang picked themselves up quickly, hopped onto their bikes, and got the fuck out of dodge. Raditz sighed as they disappeared back into the city, motorcycle engines revving their fear and frustration as dust swirled through the air along the old dirt road. Good for them.

“Dumb kids,” Raditz said, walking over to Yamcha to offer a hand. “Don't know about theirs, but my gun wasn't even loaded.”

Yamcha took his hand, wide-eyed and a little skittish (disappointing reaction, that, if expected). “Uh, yeah, thanks and all but -”

“Go on,” Raditz sighed, waving his hand. “I need to hunt down my brother anyway.”

Yamcha barked a shaky laugh. “Hunt down...right...”

Without another word, the dark-haired youth climbed aboard the stolen bike, started the thing up, and then he too was gone, back into the city. Darn. He wanted to congratulate the kid on a nice steal. Even if he had helped a little.

Oh well. Not like he'd ever come across any of these guys again anyway. Kinda sad to think about, though. He really had liked the look of that Yamcha kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I don't normally do Author Notes at the end but there are a *few* things I wanted to mention))
> 
> Raditz likes to assume a lot. He had to grow up really early on in his life, too, so even if the ages actually might be close – he's still talking like he's some veteran old man with the 'oh kids theses days' lines. Hah. Then again, I remember acting like that when I was 18, so… ((shrug))
> 
> Bandit Yamcha in an AU – lol, lookie there. That was unexpected. Going off of what I know in the GoChi HS AU (same universe where this takes place, though this one starts off 2 years before the GoChi one), I doubt he keeps the motorcycle though. Really doubt it. Also, I know he's getting beat up in the first chapter, but like, uhm, it's not so much that he's weak – just – unlucky as all hell. I swear.
> 
> Oh! Ages! Right! So, I've decided I'm making them up. Like? For the purpose of having most of the crew in high school (for my GoChi-focused AU), Goku is 15 at this point, Yamcha is only 16, as is Vegeta and Bulma. Chi-Chi and Krillin are also 15. Uhm. Tien, Launch, Chiaotzu, jury is still out, but let's go with they're all either 15 or 16 and call it a day. I don't even know if/when they'll all show up, but I've pretty much decided everyone's ages now when before in my high school fic I was keeping it vague. Oh. Raditz is 18. As the chapter title suggests. So, yeah, it...doesn't match up with canon age differences at all. 
> 
> Tien's gang – he's my antagonist in the GoChi HS AU so, uhm, here he is? (I was asking my sister, or maybe our skype group I dunno, about how to incorporate his third eye – and – uhm – well, I don't know who suggested it or if I did originally but the tattoo is a thing now and I'm just going to giggle in a corner uncontrollably). I think Tien/Launch is a ship here, but I dunno? It's kind of vague??? Maybe I'll eventually go write a Tien story in this universe (hell no stop me now hah; I'll have one for everyone if I'm not careful)
> 
> Their accents - I have to say something because Raditz freakin' said 'ain't' and shit. So, uhm, let it be known I'm not a fan of writing in accents, especially not very thick ones. However, because of where I live, my country manner of speaking may filter in when it's appropriate. It's the gonna and the ain't and stuff like that. I'm not sure who's going to end up with what, but I'm sure it'll happen. Just. Because of how I see or hear them. ((shrugs)) 
> 
> One last thing: there will be time skips. There will be. A lot. Of time skips. 3 chapters between each one, though. Until we get closer to the end, but then, well, anyway, we get there when we get there. 16 chapters planned. Aiyaaa.


	2. In a booth in a cafe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamcha has fun at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now to see how I write Yamcha. Ah hah. While I have a bit more practice with him, still not sure how natural it will feel.

 

Being late to work was only the _start_ of a beautiful day. Yamcha rushed into the corner diner, attempting to sneak past the morning manager so he could clock in without being noticed. Through the front door as carefully as possible to avoid the bell ring, across the black and white tiles, ignoring the eyes of current customers as he slid behind the counter and reached the small closet in the back. Doing his best to slip in as quietly and quickly as possible. He was unsuccessful.

“You're late!”

Baba's crackly old woman voice was right on cue, catching him just as he was reaching for his issued half apron. (There was a rule to keep the aprons in the store, presumably so absent-minded employees didn't forget them at home). Yamcha tensed as his hand closed over the fabric, letting out a sigh as he brought it down from its hanger and wrapped it around his waist. Over the black slacks and blue oxford shirt (complete with specialized nametag), of course.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, not wanting to meet her eyes. “My cat kinda...made a mess this morning.”

When he glanced down to her tiny frame, short and ragged as she was, Yamcha sighed again. She didn't even have to say anything. He knew the cat excuse wasn't going to work, no matter how true it was. Puar really _had_ gotten sick this morning, and, well the cat had been with him for longer than he could remember. Leaving Puar unattended even now felt somehow...wrong. Despite the fact that Puar had been acting normal when he left.

“Stop daydreaming,” Baba snapped, smacking him on the head with a rolled up newspaper. “Just get to work. There's a new table all lined up for you, so hurry up and clock in.”

“Ah, uhm,” Yamcha stuttered, trying to find his voice before rubbing the back of his head and nodding. “Y-yes, ma'am.”

Earning a squinting glare from her one last time, Yamcha hurriedly made his way over to the register. A few button presses later and he was clocked in for the day. Well, then. Time to get to work. Time to stop worrying about Puar and focus on his job. Time to put aside the pains of yesterday, rubbing his sore jaw, taking a quick look in a mirror to make sure his eye didn't look quite so swollen anymore.

With a nod to himself, he stepped out from behind the counter and looked up to the assigned table his manager, Baba, had mentioned. Seeing Goku's signature wild hair made him sigh. He should have known. Though he couldn't blame Goku for coming in all the time. His friend loved to eat and lived on the bare necessities in a small house in the woods so he rarely got all the food he liked to have. And of course Yamcha normally had no problem breaking a few rules to help his buddy out.

Normally.

Today wasn't exactly a good day. With everything that happened not only this morning but yesterday, Yamcha wasn't starting out in a very peppy mood. Though, he had to admit, it could have been worse if that strange traveling soldier hadn't stepped in...

Pushing the wandering thoughts to the side, Yamcha walked across the black and white tiles to the assigned red booth in the corner. Goku was chatting it up with whoever he was sitting across, wearing his typical gym workout clothes. Not the turtle gi – an outfit Yamcha had as well – just the casual sweatpants and white wife-beater t-shirt that he wore around the house more often. Still. It was early. Son Goku was known for walking around in super casual wear early in the morning, even if he was out in the city.

“Hey, Goku,” Yamcha sighed as he walked up. “You know I can't -”

His words died in his throat when he was able to finally see the guy Goku was chatting with. That mass of long dark hair should have been a dead giveaway. But, still, he hadn't expected to see the tall, dark, (and handsome) military stranger from the other day. Even if the guy wasn't wearing his uniform now, having opted for a black t-shirt that stretched almost painfully across a well ripped chest and holy cow those _arms_.

Yamcha shook his head and tried to blink the hormones away. It wasn't every day that he found a _stranger_ who could make his heart race just for existing. He was normally much more in control of his thoughts and reactions. Well, it certainly didn't help that this guy had stepped in to save his ass from a gang beating. As embarrassing as that whole situation had been.

“Oh, hey, Yamcha,” Goku said, bringing him back to the present. “My brother Raditz showed up last night. I don't think you two have met, have you?”

Brother, huh? Yeah, he could see the resemblance. That crazy ass hair and something in those dark eyes. Even if Goku's gaze and smile was by far the more innocent and welcoming of the two. Raditz's smirks were full of mystery – and that foreboding presence shouted out how much more life had done to him. Well, a brother from another nation. That had to be some story.

“Actually, we did meet,” Raditz said, tilting his head, allowing the morning sunlight to hit the two dog tags hanging from a silver chain around his neck. “How's that motorcycle gang working out for you?”

“Huh?” Goku blinked. “You're in a motorcycle gang, Yamcha?”

Feeling his face flush, Yamcha stammered. “Uh, no, no gang. Just me.”

While Goku stared with a confused raised eyebrow, Raditz merely grinned. Grinned like some crazy military guy. Heck, brother of Goku or not, he _was_ pretty crazy. Strolling through enemy territory so casually with a freakin' rifle of all things. (Well, okay, the uniform didn't call him out as an enemy; just, not one of the friendly nations Yamcha knew about at least.)

“You, uh, left your gun at home, I see.”

Raditz blinked at the jab, as if taking a moment to even process it, before his lips curled into another smirk. “Don't you worry your pretty little head. I can still save your ass without _that_ gun.”

While Raditz flexed his arms as if to demonstrate what other guns he might have, Yamcha rolled his eyes over to his confused friend. Goku had the strangest look on his face and it almost made him laugh out loud. Mouth open in a half grin with one eyebrow still raised, like he was trying to find something funny about the situation but couldn't quite grasp it.

“I think I'm uh -” Goku said, “-missing something here.”

“Don't worry about it.”

Yamcha froze as soon as the words left his lips, turning a glance to the long haired military man. They'd said the exact same thing at the exact same time with the exact same inflection. It was freaky. And Raditz only responded to it with that obnoxious little grin.

“Hah. All right, then,” Goku said, breezing by the weird happenstance like it was nothing. “You ready for our order, Yamcha?”

Eyes widening – because he'd forgotten he was on the job – Yamcha scrambled to pull his notepad out of his half apron pocket. (One always needed a notepad when Goku was the one ordering food). “Uh, yeah, go ahead.”

After that, well, he wished he could say the rest of the day went smoothly. Between his manager nagging him half the time and his eyes and ears being constantly distracted by _one certain loudly present customer_ , there just wasn't any hope to have an easy day at work. He broke no less than three glasses, spilled even more than that, _and_ almost dropped a plate full of food.

Almost.

Because Raditz caught it before it could even tip over.

He'd been in the process of bringing food to an older couple near the back. Regulars. They came all the time. Always a bright spot in the day, too, seeing how nice they were and how adorable their love was shown in their little gestures to each other. All the servers fought over who got to tend to their table, too, seeing as they gave out amazing tips.

Well, Yamcha had one spot of luck today and was enjoying it...until Raditz stopped him in his path to the back table. Stopped him by jumping up beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders like they were friends, and leaning his face down next to his.

Oh _god_ why was his face so close?

Frozen with a plate balanced precariously in each hand, Yamcha could only blink as Raditz pulled out some old flip phone. “Hang on a sec. We're leaving but I need a quick selfie with you for my collection.”

“Wha – what?”

His face burned as the snapshot was taken (without his permission). What was _up_ with this guy? How was he even remotely related to Goku? And why was he reduced to a flustered fool whenever the guy did some new crazy thing? (Also why did Raditz's arm across his shoulders have to feel so protective and comfortable and _good_?) It was all so random and yet -

“Hey, relax, kid,” Raditz said, grinning as he pulled away. “I'll get out of your hair now and you'll never see me again.”

He grimaced, “But -”

The raised eyebrow made him pull up short. Because why in the heck would he protest the idea of Raditz never seeing him again? They'd only recently met and the guy was, well, something else. Loud, boisterous, fucking _insane_ , but still it felt like a waste to say _never_ see him again.

His heart raced as he leaned forward, taking a step even, knowing this was a crazy thing to say but it was _Goku's_ brother here and as crass as he appeared to be the guy _had_ saved him and - “You should -”

And that was when the plate tipped out of his hand. A blink, a gasp, a scramble to catch it, almost losing his balance completely in his efforts to keep the other one from falling while also snatching at the dropped plate. The hand steadying him at his waist made him hold his breath. Especially when the owner of said hand was holding up the dropped plate with a grin on his face.

“Careful there,” Raditz said, handing him the plate so he could return to balancing both. “Wouldn't want you losing your job because of my antics. Money is kind of important in this world. Good news is you're still looking cute so no harm done.”

His face flushed. Jeez! He could feel the heat all the way down his neck, too. “C-cute?”

Okay, sure, he'd been called cute by girls before. Bulma, especially. But this was new. Different. A tall, dark, handsome, mysterious (only somewhat now) military man was calling him cute. It was...hard to breathe, actually.

“Yeah, cute,” Raditz said, crossing his arms. “Isn't that what being a server in a cafe is all about?”

“Not...really,” he muttered, thinking it odd that Raditz would use _cafe_ to describe the diner when really – he shook his head, taking a breath, and forced his heart to settle as he faced the man. “I'm off at three.”

Raditz's eyebrows went way up at that. “Really? I'll have to remember that, then.”

As Yamcha nodded, another voice interrupted. Goku, actually. Calling from the diner's entrance, the bell ringing once at the opening of the door. “Come on, Raditz. I gotta get to school. Grandpa'll be upset if I miss another day.”

“Right, I'm coming,” Raditz said, giving one last smirk to Yamcha before turning around and raising his hand as he walked away. “See ya around, kid.”

When the brothers left, Yamcha took a moment to stare at the door. _'See ya around.'_ Did that mean Raditz was going to show up at three o'clock or not?

Well, at least it was better than ' _you'll never see me again.'_

Now, he'd just spend the rest of the day working with anxiety as he anticipated the hour he got off work. Anticipated the _possible_ meeting. With Raditz. Without anyone else around.

Shit, why had he said that?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Culture and technology era: it's not American (my home country) culture, but it's not exactly Japanese culture, either. In fact, it's a little bit of a mix of a bunch of cultures I've been exposed to through several different mediums. Which...makes it my own, I guess? Just in case you're trying to pin it down. You ain't gonna do it. Originally, details just kind of happened. “Accidental-world-building.” as my beta, Silver, said. And the technology era, uhm, whatever it is, Raditz's nation is either behind the norm or he is in particular because of social and economic status. Or maybe just because I love having characters with older flip-phones while other characters have smart-phones. Remember, though. Not our world. Just...similar.


	3. Sittin' down for a while and talkin' to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those awkward conversations when you're the only two around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a discovery writer. Sue me. It really is accidental world building.

 

 

Why the hell was he out here?

Goku was off at school and he didn't really like roaming around the city without his brother. The damn walk from the little house in the woods just to the _outskirts_ of the city was a pain in the ass. Normally, Raditz just laid back in the old house and chatted with Grandpa Gohan about the state of affairs in his country and military. Nations. Politics. Any current threats. Boring adult stuff.

Although it _was_ nice to confide in someone, Raditz could only stand that old man for so long. He'd get up. Leave the house. Wander the woods. Enjoy the smell of pine trees, the look of a lake that was actually blue, the sound of active wildlife all around him. Everything was _alive_ out there. It was nice.

So, if he enjoyed the woods so much, why the hell had he wandered all the way into the city? To this specific restaurant-thing no less?

Raditz glanced over his shoulder as a little bell rang, grumbling to himself when a happy little family with two young girls left the cafe. Or diner. Or whatever it was. The older one was kind of cute, but her sidelong glances had the edge of some stuck up rich kid reminding him of his place. It took everything in him not to start something, forcing himself to be satisfied with a growl. Best not to make a scene while he was visiting another nation, visiting his brother.

As time passed, he sighed, watching the shadows from the nearby tree move along the finely cut grass outside the diner. Taking a nearby stick from the small patch of grass outside the building, he crouched down against the stone wall and poked at the dirt. Drew little designs in the mud like some kind of child.

Gods, he was bored out of his mind. Completely out of his mind. He grunted at the thought. Gone crazy over some friend of his brother's.

“ _I get off at three._ ”

Yeah, great. When would three-o-clock get here? He didn't pay attention to time. Just flowed through the day as he felt. Yet here he was, waiting for a specific time to happen. And what for?

Some mysterious high schooler. He was intrigued by this kid who could go from a brash bike thief one day – caught in a gang fight against overwhelming odds – and _then_ the very next _day_ turn into a cute little server at a restaurant acting like nothing was odd about the sudden swap in character.

Well, color Raditz curious. And maybe a little attracted. What kind of personality lurked underneath that strong yet boyish face? Why would Yamcha go around stealing motorcycles from a _gang_ in the city – and then be up the next morning actually _working_ for his money? Was he desperate for something? It didn't seem like it so -

“Oh,” a familiar voice said, bringing attention to the bell ring he'd been listening for this whole time. “So you actually showed up.”

Blinking in the sunlight of mid-afternoon, Raditz got to his feet. He grinned but he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because the kid was finally off. At least now he could have someone to talk with that wouldn't annoy him for one reason or another. Someone who actually looked cute in that server outfit. Sad to see the little apron missing, though.

Stepping away from the door, Yamcha pointed toward Raditz's hand. “Nice stick.”

_Shit._

With a smirk, Raditz shook the embarrassment away as he raised the stick in the air. “You bet it is. It's so nice, I couldn't stand to see it sitting in the grass doing nothing.”

Yamcha raised an eyebrow, hands going to his pockets. “So, now it's doing nothing in your hand. Great improvement.”

“Oh, sweetcheeks,” Raditz said. “If something's in my hand, you can bet it's doing far more than looking pretty. Though plenty of things do look nice in my hand. I have to admit that. Glad you noticed.”

The silence that followed his statements was a little unnerving. A little. He didn't like letting things get to him. In that sense, he was like his younger brother, he supposed. Never letting the small awkward moments of life really bother him.

Still. Now he had some dumb stick in his hand, waving it around in the thick summer air. He'd always considered himself a smoother talker, but Yamcha didn't seem to really fall for his lines. Or even understand them. Must be something different in their country cultures causing some disconnect.

Oh well. Made it more of a challenge.

“All right, Yamcha -” he sighed, poking the stick toward the kid. “That _is_ your name, right?”

A nod. “And you're Raditz.”

He smirked, moving to set his new stick friend up at his shoulder, like some habitual movement. “Great. Introductions taken care of. Enough of the awkward staring now, all right? You _are_ the one that set up this date, aren'tcha?”

Smiling at the blush on the kid's face, Raditz knew he'd assumed at least _something_ correctly. Why else would Yamcha tell him when he was off work? He kind of wanted to pull out his cell phone and take a picture of him. Just as he was now. Standing there in the summer heat, face red but not because of sunburn, looking a little worn in his too-cute server outfit. He still found it interesting that the kid would actually work _and_ steal bikes. Who knew what else Yamcha did when no one was looking?

“I – uh – I didn't mean,” Yamcha stammered into the space between them. “I wasn't really thinking _date_ when I said...”

“Of course not,” Raditz interrupted with a shrug and a teasing wink. “Don't have to call it a date if you don't want to. Hangin' out with a stranger? Sittin' down and talkin' for a while?”

“Actually, I, uh -” Yamcha said, lifting a hand out of his pocket to point toward the road. “I kinda need to get home and check on my cat.”

At first, Raditz blinked at the new added information on this strange kid, but then he laughed. “All right then. I'll walk with you. How's that? I walk all the time.”

Yamcha didn't say much in response to that, just giving a shrug and then a nod. But it did get him to move, glancing at Raditz as he turned to start making his way down the city streets. Raditz followed with a hum in his step, still holding that stick at his shoulder.

It was the outskirts of the city, though there weren't any dirt roads or much of a country atmosphere like the place at the edge of the city limits. Then again, they weren't exactly downtown or anything. Still, the roads were paved and the buildings were mildly close together, separated by fields of grass and clovers. The asphalt was hot even through his boots, but like he'd said, he walked all the time. Summer heat, winter chill, he was used to walking in all sorts of conditions. This was nothing.

A little quiet to be walking with someone else, though. But for once, he kept his mouth shut. A part of him just wanted to wait on Yamcha to talk. Maybe he liked hearing his voice. Maybe he was curious to see what sort of conversation the kid would start up. Honestly, he should have expected the round of questions.

“So,” Yamcha said eventually to break the silence. “With all that walking you do...where are you walking _from_?”

Raditz frowned. “A different country.”

“Vague answer.”

He shrugged. “Heavy question for a first date.”

“Hm,” Yamcha hummed, dark charcoal eyes glancing over at him. “Fair enough. But then why are you fighting for somewhere different than your home country?”

“Oh that's easy,” Raditz sent a smirk to the youth as they walked. “This isn't my home.”

At that, the kid froze, eyebrows raised curiously as he stepped on the side of the street and stared. There was something nice in the way Yamcha was standing, too. Maybe the position of the sun, creating a certain glow that made his breath catch. Oh, damn, he could stare at this kid all day.

“But Goku is your brother.”

Raditz blinked, shook his head, and then gave a laugh. “Yeah, yeah he is, but I'm not the one in the wrong country.”

“Huh?”

“We were separated at an early age,” Raditz explained, taking the stick in his hand and breaking it in two. “He was adopted. I was left at the orphanage. At least until I was drafted into the military.”

Now _that_ was a story, but not one worth sharing on a first date. He was happy to see his brother living such an innocent and carefree life. Sometimes he wondered what might have been, though, if the hand of fate hadn't been so cruel. If the orphanage hadn't sent him out for child labor that day at six years old or if their parents had actually survived that bombing raid. He still had nightmares.

Nightmares of his mother handing his brother off to him, telling him to run. Images of fire and smoke. Of his father yelling at him to get out of there, to keep his brother safe no matter what. Of his baby brother wailing in the night and having to keep himself from crying so he could shut the boy up and keep from being noticed by the invaders. Flashes of screams amid fire. Of bombs falling. Of gunshots and -

“Well,” Yamcha said, snapping his attention away from the past. “That explains a lot.”

Raditz gave a small smile this time, instead of a smirk, trying to focus on Yamcha's casual, high school innocence. Brash risk taker on one hand – model citizen on the other. It was much easier to stare at his brother's friend in the afternoon sun, stare and forget the rough memories of being left alone.

So completely alone.

“You have no idea.”

~!~

Yamcha's apartment was a small little thing tucked away behind a car wash and pizza parlor. A group of flat, older buildings that could have used a flashier paint job, looking dull and uninviting in the midst of an otherwise bright and invigorating city. There was a small entrance gate, but Raditz was pretty sure he could jump the bars if he really wanted to, like a nice exercise in parkour.

Once inside the complex itself, they walked to some dark corner with one huge tree draped over the parking lot, looking to all the world like it didn't belong. Up a flight of stairs and around the corner, they finally made it to Yamcha's space. Raditz stood back out of habit, glancing around the area as if he needed to search the shadows for predators. You never knew when something would jump out at you.

As a matter of fact, when Yamcha opened the door, something _did_ come jumping out. A furry little creature bounded right out of the apartment, barreling into Yamcha's legs and nearly knocking the poor kid over.

“Careful there,” Raditz said as he caught the youth from behind. “You're not really good at this balance thing, are you?”

“I'm perfectly good at the balance thing!” Yamcha snapped, pulling himself out of Raditz's grip and bending down to pick up the little culprit. “Puar just surprised me, that's all.”

“Puar.”

“Yeah,” Yamcha said, showing him the small animal now in his arms. “My cat.”

Ah, he could see it now. A little fur ball curling up close to Yamcha as they walked into the apartment. Fur that almost looked blue with the way it shined in the light and two eyes that were closed in contentment as it cuddled with its master. Raditz wasn't much of a cat person. Heck, he didn't really care for animals in general. But this cat was already trying to sway him, just with the way it clung to Yamcha.

“Cute,” he deadpanned. “At least until it jumps you and claws your face up, leaving scars that'll mark you forever.”

Yamcha eyed him. “Puar doesn't attack like that. No need to worry.”

Crossing his arms, Raditz grumbled. “I'm not worried.”

Though he received a snide grin for his comment, Yamcha led him into the apartment after letting the subject drop. Raditz walked in and took a quick glance around the cramped place. Not quite as small as Goku's little house in the woods, but still, it wasn't exactly high society either. Of course he shouldn't expect much from a high schooler.

Drab walls with chipped and faded paint, an old curtain barely covering the window in the main room. When the light came on, it was dim, but the furniture layout did bring life to the place as if Yamcha was working well with the little he had at his disposal. Magazines and cat toys were scattered amid the old couch and bedroll, which was still open and on the floor instead of sitting up against the wall like Raditz was used to seeing in places this small. There was also a nice wood carved coffee table in front of a small television, but neither of those looked like they saw much use.

“You can sit down, I guess,” Yamcha said, setting the cat on the floor. “I'll go ahead and make tea or something. You drink tea, right? I mean, you're Goku's brother so I figured traditional stuff, but then -”

“Tea's fine,” Raditz said, waving him off. “But I thought you were coming here to check on your cat.”

“Checked on him,” Yamcha smirked. “Seems fine. Now it's just date time, right?”

“Date -” Raditz blinked, then laughed. “Yeah, sure, kid. Whatever you want to call it.”

Yamcha shrugged. “That's what you called it.”

“Oh, so now you're stealing my jokes as well as my heart?”

The flush on the kid's face was worth every word. “I – what – no – I was being serious.”

Feeling a warmth in his chest, Raditz found his words stolen on top of everything else. So he stood for a moment and smiled. A real smile. Trying to discern the look in those eyes gazing back at him. Reading people could be _so_ difficult sometimes. The likelihood of sincerity in Yamcha's interest...well…

Almost made him want to ask if he could send letters to him. So many of his fellow soldiers wrote and received letters. Raditz had never bothered. Who was he gonna write to? Goku? His brother hated reading, much less writing back. Nah. He'd never even considered the possibilities of sending a letter to someone.

But...well…

He opened his mouth. “You know -” and changed his mind mid-statement. “I think I'm gonna have to visit you next time I come into town, too.”

With a flush to his face, Yamcha glanced away, scratched his cheek, and mumbled in response. “I think I'd like that.”

Raditz smiled, and as the high schooler left the room to make his way to the kitchen – a kitchen that at one glance seemed much more organized than anything else in the apartment – he dropped his smile for a frown. Because, well, not only was it hard to keep his eyes off of him, but now he was really _really_ glad he'd stolen that quick selfie in the diner earlier today. Besides that, the warmth flooding through him at the thought that Yamcha was actually enjoying his company as much as he was enjoying the youth's…

He sighed and flopped down on the old couch, petting the little fur ball of a cat as it hopped into his lap and purred at his touch. All things considered, he was – he was -

Well, _shit_ , he really was falling for the kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to decide if Puar is female or male just gives me a headache. I read so many sources and it could literally be either? (Also I spell it that way because reasons; I know it's Pu'ar in the manga but eh~)
> 
> Also trying to decide if certain characters are going to be their animal type in a modern au or if they're going to be human. Welp. Puar is a cat. I doubt Oolong will make an appearance, but maybe. And already established in the GoChi HS fic that Korin is human but a furry. I do what I waaaaant~


End file.
